5 // blog entry (bulletin archive)

i'mma start from the beginning

when i worked at my old job, i had started abusing pot and alcohol. i drank whenever i could and i started self harming. then alcohol made my acid reflux even worse. i'd do edibles every night before bed, because it was fun and because it helped me sleep. i began to take more edibles. i had distilled thc in a syringe, and i'd apply a line or two of it onto an edible, then place another edible on top of it. the first time i did it, i almost called 911 on myself because i was so scared and i was literally ascending through dimensions.

...so i did it again

then it became a norm for me. i quit my job because i couldn't focus, i was in a haze and i couldn't preform when i was practically 'hungover' from pot. i also still drank on occasion, and began to call out more often.

one day, i was scheduled for work and i just didn't want to go. i was miserable and constantly thinking about hanging myself in the bathroom at work. i didn't like the stress of fast food and my boss thought i was stealing from him. so that day, i quit, i called my boss crying and told him i'm quitting because of a mental health crisis.

i was in a relationship too, where i was pretty much neglected. we'd spend time together irl, whenever my dad would drive me to seattle to see him every weekend (or so, sometimes i didn't see him). i wasn't happy in my relationship, honestly, i emotionally cheated on him quite a few times. i loved him, but he didn't provide me the attention i desperately needed online. i mean our conversations were abysmal.

my current living situation isn't ideal either. i'd been wanting to move in with him, to get away from all of this shit that was going to drive me to the brink of suicide. but he insisted that i either move in with my sister or deal with it. his excuse was he wanted us to both be financially stable. i had a job, he has a job, and had quite a bit saved up. i need to get out of this fucking hellhole. i grew more and more frustrated with this. within my relationship, i had developed anorexia (recovered, for the most part), started self harming, then substance abuse again.

this year, my pot use became so bad. i did it EVERY night. at one point, the only time i didn't do pot was when i was at my ex's house, but eventually i started doing them over there. i was bored over there. it was the same routine over and over again. cuddle, maybe have sex, part our ways for a couple hours or so, then spend a bit of time together before bed, rinse and repeat. i had to distance myself emotionally from him because i had this image of him in my head, and then i was disappointed by reality. so i detached. i still loved him, i just had to focus on something else, otherwise i would've focused on how little he talked to me.

march of this year, the 22nd, i woke up at 4 in the morning. i was incredibly suicidal. i couldn't stop crying, i couldn't get my mind off of offing myself. i even joined a suicide forum. i spent some time with my dad that day, in a pathetic attempt to make myself feel better and take my mind off of it. i was still in a daze because i'd gotten high the night prior, i noticed my intelligence decrease by tenfold, and i couldn't think straight. couldn't do anything. i went home, and cried. i was so upset and frustrated, all the shit that my ex had done spun in my head. like calling another girl more attractive than me. making my self harm about him. he even said that i was too nihilistic. he undermined the severity of my depression.

i broke up with him. we talked for a bit, i didn't lash out, i said that i wasn't sure if i wanted to be in a relationship or not. i still wanted him, he was my motivation to get better at one point, but eventually i just stopped caring. i grew more and more nihilistic and pessimistic as i became more aware of current world events, the relationship, and my home life.

*side note, i am neglected at home, i've been raised by the internet and i have reactive attachment disorder. it is rare to have this. i cannot form or keep meaningful attachments. i show all signs of depression and have little to no support at home, so i have to pull my own weight, which is hard when you see no point in life.

a couple hours went by and i did lash out at him. i told him i needed more attention, i needed to get away from this hellhole so i could properly get my shit together.

i had quit pot for 5 days and i was going to see him in person that weekend to discuss our relationship further. my dumbass wanted him back, but he ultimately decided it was better that we didn't. i drank in his bathtub, then later got high and stayed up at night crying and texted the suicide hotline. he woke up to comfort me. he had work the next morning, so when he left, he had his mom come check on me. he had a dream where i did commit suicide.

i cut myself before i left his apartment, then went to michael's for some paint. the lady that i texted recommended that i try drawing again (used to be a hobby/passion of mine, now i hardly do it). i got some paint and drew vent art. then, once i was done, i still had the rest of the fucking day.

i got high and fell asleep. have yall ever watched big mouth or human resources? i literally felt the depression cat around me.

next morning i woke up, disappointed that i didn't just die or something. i started crying. i then had my mom drive me to the hospital for suicidal thoughts. they were just going to send me to another facility, they never had a psychiatrist talk to me. they told my mom which facility i'd be going to. i called her while i was there, and she had told me that the facility had poor ratings/reviews (mental help is abysmal in washington state). items being lost, staff members treating patients poorly. i checked myself out.

i don't remember much right after, but i had gotten my birth control removed as well. i quit taking prozac a long time ago, as it didn't help me whatsoever anymore. prior to breaking up with my boyfriend, i had felt the early signs of anhedonia.

when my birth control was removed, i was off pot again for about 5 days or so, and i felt fine. i was okay for once. i like music again.

i had joined adult servers in an attempt to find some guy to talk to, and i felt fine. i began using pot again.

then, i noticed i didn't really feel anything. my sex drive was shot, and i just wanted to focus on one of my hobbies (vocal synthesis, i hadn't done it in so long). i had a partner at the time, but i broke it off with him, it wasn't going to work out (asshole was uncomfortable w me talking abt abortion so fuck him).

my dad attempted suicide (may, i think). he had recently quit he job (march/april) and was on a downhill spiral. we had a sort of suicide pact, or at least we talked about it at one point, but i wasn't so sure that i wanted to die just yet. i had some hope left.

it started when he texted me one night, he drank 4lokos and texted me, saying he wanted to drive into a pole at 90 mph (also for context, he lives in his vehicle bc rent here sucks, he has three of them. prior to this, one of the windows was busted in his van, and on the other vehicle someone graffiti'd it, and that was one of the breaking points for him). i was worried, obviously, and made myself a drink because i was too sober for that shit. i wanted to die when my dad did, i was fully prepared to end it all. i told my grandma about it as well. i called him because he didn't answer my message for a bit, and that saved him from doing it.

later, he drove 3 hours out towards eastern washington. this is when he began popping ibuprofen, melatonin, and benedryll by the handful before chasing it down with alcohol. he had hallucinations, and to this day, we aren't sure how he managed to drive back here. during that week i began smoking pot (i never smoked, as joints did nothing for me, but MAN the fucking pens hit different). i had to numb myself to the reality that my dad might kill himself. or that he was going to. this whole thing went on for a week, it was the first time in forever that i told him i loved him. i'm uncomfortable expressing that towards family, as usually, i don't mean it, but i knew it was important to say before he died or hurt himself. i kept my grandma updated. sometimes he didn't text me for a while and it worried me, i just smoked more and more and more.

towards the end of the week, he told me he stopped eating 4 days prior and stopped drinking water. and alcohol too, because the pills had fucked his stomach up. he texted me a couple times, then went silent. i later learned he had passed out. i told my moms boyfriend to drive me around the area he'd been staying at, but he had a phone appointment. my mom ended up calling my dad, and she went off on him, rightfully so. i got high during that conversation. he was insistent on killing himself, he didn't care how i fucking felt or how his mom felt. it was unfair. i'm fucking 18 and shouldn't have to put up with that shit. at that point, i just wanted him to die to get the grieving process done and over with, then follow suit. my mom convinced him to come to the parking lot, in all honesty, i didn't want to see him. i didn't know what to say to him.

we walked downstairs and i let my mom do most of the talking as i hit my pen multiple times and updated my grandma. my dad looked awful. his eyes had yellowed, he barely had a voice, he stunk, and he was so weak, he couldn't leave the vehicle to use the bathroom nor walk. it was hard to see him like that.

and like the philosopher i am when i'm high, i spewed some bullshit and offered him different job opportunities or whatever to get his life together and to interact with other people. afterwards, i parted ways. i had to hold back my tears, i fucking hate crying in front of people. i was so fucking upset but also so numb to the situation to, as i had been preparing for it. we invited him in, and now he somewhat stays here. he has a job now, quit pot and alcohol (he has no cravings for it whatsoever, so i guess that's the only good part about it) and mostly comes in to watch TV. i don't talk to him much, as i just stay in my room and rot.

my pot addiction had gotten incredibly bad, i felt awful one night when i smoked, so, the next morning i went cold turkey. if my memory serves correct, i had been sober for 6 weeks. numb. it feels like a physical block in my chest, like i cannot access my core, and nothing is the same anymore.

i relapsed recently (a few days ago), which was short lived because i became incredibly suicidal. it was scary, it was to the point where i merely had days left. i had my mom take my pot away, and now i'm restarting my sobriety and attempting to recover from depression, not for my sake, but for my friend's sake.

anhedonia is when you experience a lack or total absence of pleasure. it is a soulless hell. i am here, but i am not alive. i merely exist. i restarted wellbutrin, since i was off of it when i was sober for 6 weeks and now i'm going back to therapy. this is absolutely awful. i remember exactly how pleasure felt. how passionate i used to be.

in my poems, i talk about the city of grey a lot. even in the city of grey, neon lights shined through the dark. but now, it's nothing. everything is closed.

i would do anything to fucking feel alive again. crying isn't even the same anymore. i miss the feeling of depression's hands wringing out my fucking heart. i miss the fiery passion i once had. i miss how my heart would ache and burn both out of love and hatred. i miss how being on top of the world felt. i miss having hope. i miss having a fucking soul. i still sway and dance to music, on occasion, but it never hits my heart like it used to. it sounds good, but it doesn't spark me up anymore. my creativity is gone. i am so deadset on dying. i really want to recover, which is why i'm giving it another shot. i don't even have a sex drive anymore, i force myself to do my hobbies, which i enjoy very, very mildly. it feels like a stuffy nose that you can't blow out, no matter how hard you blow. it's like drowning. occasionally, i feel a little pang in my heart, but it is short lived. it's like catching a brief breath of air before being pulled back down the depths of melancholy. that's all i can feel. melancholy. somehow i can feel the lowest of lows, and never the highest of highs. i miss fucking breathing and i miss the neon lights in my city. i am homesick.

that's how my life has been recently for the past few months. a soulless fucking hell. everything has left my city, it's dead and now the buildings are collapsing and life is dying. the future seems so bleak.

i hope one day, i can burn brighter than a thousand suns again and give my spark to everyone.